


tilt

by frausorge



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-25
Updated: 2008-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Frank gets out to the street he stands still for a minute, just to gather himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bexless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexless/gifts).



> An icon ficlet for bexless, based on the prompt icon below.

When Frank gets out to the street he stands still for a minute, just to gather himself. Collect his thoughts. Take stock. He takes a deep breath and makes himself let it out slowly.

He has the sidewalk to himself; there are cars parked up and down the block, but no sign of anyone else stirring yet. The air is brisk on his neck and his arms, although the sun is already quite bright. He shivers a little, and the twitch of motion sets the bite mark on his shoulder tingling again under his T-shirt. And his ass feels... he can feel it, more than usual. Not sore, exactly. Stretched.

He feels tired, still, and his head wants to be back on the pillow, curled under the lumpy comforter, warm knees bumping his legs. Warm arm against his back. Warm breath behind his neck, and then his mind skips sideways into the heated press of tongues and his mouth and his thighs are suddenly ready to open again, all over again, though his ass is maybe not, quite yet. He shakes his head to clear it. There's an ache in his chest, too, and he tries to follow it back, through the bucking and the grunting and all the rolling around -- maybe the bite? he thinks, but that's not really it either -- the thumps, and the licking, till he gets all the way back to the hand under his shoulder blades, and -- yeah, there. That.

He bites his lip, and the thrill and the pang bloom up again: the strong hand tilting him backwards, lowering him down to the mattress, carefully, almost gently. He let that grip take his weight and move him, and his trust is still hanging there, in that moment. He breathes in and out, feeling it. He doesn't know whether he wishes he could take it back.

"Iero," someone says, and Frank jumps, re-fixing his eyes on the world. Mikey is standing next to him with a grin.

"Way," Frank says. "Morning."

"Dude, are you calling a dawn practice or something? How long have you been waiting out here?" Mikey starts digging in his pocket for his keys. "You know Gerard's never gonna wake up for something as puny as the doorbell. You gotta keep hammering if you want him to answer."

"I, uh," Frank says. "I was actually thinking maybe I should just get going."

Mikey pauses, looking him up and down. And whatever, really, what the fuck ever, because Frank takes a good look himself and Mikeyway is also still in the same shirt he had on at last night's show. And just now getting home. So, fuck him.

"Look," Mikey says at last, "why don't you come in? You -- well, like I said. If you want something from G, you've gotta keep at it."

Mikey isn't smirking after all; his eyes are steady and sober. Frank looks away, his mind full of the snarls and tangles of dark hair against the pillowcase and the hand under his back, that hand.

Gerard's hand.

"Okay," he says. "I will."

Mikey nods and opens the door. Frank follows him back inside.


End file.
